Friday, April 13, 2012

is
alchemical, of course. The traditional code represents the three kinds
of sex by a cube, a pyramid, and a sphere. The cube is that travesty we
call 'normal sex, in which the two nervous systems never actually merge
at the orgasm, like the two parallel sides of the cube. The pyramid is
the two coming together and joining, the magical-telepathic orgasm. The
sphere is the Tantric ritual, endlessly prolonged, with no orgasm at
all. The alchemists used that code for over two thousand years. The
Rosicrucians among the founding fathers used the pyramid as a symbol of
their kind of sex magic. Aleister Crowley used that symbol the same way,
more recently. The eye on the pyramid is the two minds meeting.
Neurological interlock. The opening of the Eye of Shiva. Ewige
Schlangekraft—the eternal serpent power. The joining of the Rose and
Cross, vagina and penis, into Rose-Cross. The astral leap. Mind escaping
from physiology."

You silly sons-of-bitches!

You silly sons-of-bitches!

You silly sons-of-bitches!

23. Two and Three. Duality and trinity. Every unity is a duality and a trinity.

Dillinger
made contact with the mind of Richard Belz, forty-three-year-old
professor of physics at Queens College, as Belz was being loaded into an
ambulance to be taken to Bellevue Hospital where X rays would reveal
severe skull fractures. Shit, Dillinger thought, why does somebody have
to be half dead before I can reach him? Then he concentrated on his
message: Two universes flowing in opposite directions. Two together form
a third entity which is synergetically more than the sum of its two
parts. Thus two always leads to three. Two and Three. Duality and
trinity. Every unity is a duality and a trinity. A pentagon. Sheer
energy, no matter involved. From the pentagon depend five more
pentagons, like the petals of a flower. A white rose. Five petals and a
center: six. Two times three. The flower interlocks with another flower
just like it, forming a polyhedron made of pentagons. Each such
polyhedron could have common surfaces with other polyhedrons, forming
infinite latticework based on the pentagonal unit. They would be
immortal. Self-sustaining. Not computers. Beyond computers. Gods. All
space for their habitation. Infinitely complex.

"Who did you say was looting this temple?" he asked Hagbard.
"The
Illuminati. The real force behind all communist and fascist movements.
Whether you're aware of it or not, they're also already in control of
the United States government."
"I thought everybody in your crowd was a right-winger—"
"And I told you spacial metaphors are inadequate in discussing politics today," Hagbard interrupted.
"Well,
you sound like a gang of right-wingers. Up until the last minute, all
I've heard from you and your people was that the Illuminati were
commies, or were behind the commies. Now you say they're behind fascism
and behind the current government in Washington, too."

Hagbard laughed. "We came on like right-wing paranoids, at first, to see how you'd react. It was a test."
"And?"
"You
passed. You didn't believe us— that was obvious— but you kept your eyes
and ears open and were willing to listen. If you were a right-winger,
we would have done our pro-communist rap. The idea is to find out if a
new man or woman will listen, really listen, or just shut their minds
at the first really shocking idea."
"I'm listening, but not
uncritically. For instance, if the Illuminati control America already,
what's the purpose of the assassinations?"
"Their grip on
Washington is still pretty precarious. They've been able to socialize
the economy. But if they showed their hand now and went totalitarian all
the way, there would be a revolution. Middle-readers would rise up with
right-wingers, and left-libertarians, and the Illuminati aren't
powerful enough to withstand that kind of massive revolution. But they
can rule by fraud, and by fraud eventually acquire access to the tools
they need to finish the job of killing off the Constitution."
"What sort of tools?"

"More
stringent security measures. Universal electronic surveillance.
No-knock laws. Stop and frisk laws. Government inspection of first-class
mail. Automatic fingerprinting, photographing, blood tests, and
urinalysis of any person arrested before he is charged with a crime. A
law making it unlawful to resist even unlawful arrest. Laws establishing
detention camps for potential subversives.

Gun
control laws. Restrictions on travel. The assassinations, you see,
establish the need for such laws in the public mind. Instead of
realizing that there is a conspiracy, conducted by a handful of men, the
people reason— or are manipulated into reasoning— that the entire
populace must have its freedom restricted in order to protect the
leaders. The people agree that they themselves can't be trusted. Targets
for assassination will be mavericks of left or right who are either not
part of the Illuminati conspiracy or have been marked as unreliable.
The Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King, for example, were capable
of mobilizing a somewhat libertarian left-right-black-white populist
movement. But the assassinations that have occurred so far are nothing
compared to what will take place. The next wave will be carried out by
the Mafia, who will be paid in Illuminati gold."
"Not Moscow gold," said George with a smile.

"The
puppets in the Kremlin have no idea that they and the puppets in the
White House are working for the same people. The Illuminati control all
sorts of organizations and national governments without any of them
being aware that others are also controlled. Each group thinks it is
competing with the others, while actually each is playing its part in
the Illuminati plan. Even the Morituri— the six-person affinity groups
which splintered from the SDS Weathermen, because the Weathermen seemed
too cautious— are under the control of the Illuminati. They think
they're working to bring down the government, but actually they are
strengthening its hand. The Black Panthers are also infiltrated.
Everything is infiltrated. At present rate, within the next few years
the Illuminati will have the American people under tighter surveillance
than Hitler had the Germans. And the beauty of it is, the majority of
the Americans will have been so frightened by Illuminati-backed
terrorist incidents that they will beg to be controlled as a masochist
begs for the whip."
George shrugged. Hagbard sounded like a
typical paranoid, but there was this submarine and the strange events of
the past few days. "So the Illuminati are conspiring to tyrannize the
world, is that it? Do you trace them back to the First International?"

"No.
They're what happened when the Enlightenment of the eighteenth century
collided with German mysticism. The correct name for the organization is
Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria. According to their own traditions
they were founded or revived in seventeen seventy-six on May first by a
man named Adam Weishaupt. Weishaupt was an unfrocked Jesuit and a
Mason. He taught that religions and national governments had to be
overthrown and the world ruled by an elite of scientifically-minded
materialistic atheists, to be held in trust for the masses of mankind
who would eventually rule themselves when enlightenment became
universal. But this was only Weishaupt's 'Outer Doctrine.' There was
also an 'Inner Doctrine,' which was that power is an end in itself, and
that Weishaupt and his closest followers would make use of the new
knowledge being developed by scientists and engineers to seize control
of the world. Back in seventeen seventy-six, things were run largely by
the Church and the feudal nobility, with the capitalists slowly getting a
bigger and bigger piece of the pie. Weishaupt declared that these
groups were obsolete, and it was time for an elite with a monopoly on
scientific and technological knowledge to seize power. Instead of
eventually producing a democratic society, as the 'Outer Doctrine'
promised, the Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria would saddle mankind
with a dictatorship that would last forever."

"You've refused Heaven, so you must travel the harder path through the halls of Hell."

Playboy bunny Virginia

"I wasn't disturbing the peace," I said. "I was disturbing the war."

I stole that one-liner from

Ammon Hennacy, Catholic Anarchist

Entropy

A patrolman led me to the fingerprint room. This guy was a computer: "Right hand." I gave him my

right hand. "Left hand." I gave him my left hand. "Follow the officer." I followed the officer, and they took my picture. We went down some halls to the night court, and in a lonely section the patrolman suddenly hit me in the lower back with his club, the exact spot (he knew his business) to give me liver problems for a month. I grunted but refused to say anything that would set him off and get me another clout, so he spoke. "Yellow-bellied faggot," he said.

Just like Biloxi, Mississippi: one cop is nice, another is just impersonal, a third is a mean bastard—

and it doesn't really matter. They're all part of the same machine, and what comes out the end of the gears and levers is the same product, whatever their attitude is. I'm sure Buchenwald was the same: some of the guards tried to be as humane as possible, some of them just did their job, some of them went out of their way to make it worse for the prisoners. It doesn't matter: the machine produces the effect it was designed for.

Judge Bushman (we slipped him AUM two years later, but that's another story, coming up on trip) gave me his famous King Kong scowl. "Here are the rules," he said. This is an arraignment. You can enter a plea or stand mute. If you enter a plea, you retain the right to change it at your trial. When I set bond, you can be released by paying ten percent to the bailiff. Cash only, no checks. If you don't have the cash, you go to jail overnight. You people have the city tied up in knots and the bail bondsmen are too busy to cover every courtroom, so by sheer bad luck you landed in a courtroom they're not covering." He turned to the bailiff. "Charge sheet," he said. He read the record of my criminal career as concocted by the arresting officer. "Five offenses in one night. You're bad medicine, aren't you, Moon? Trial set for September fifteenth. Bail will be ten thousand dollars. Do you have one thousand dollars?"

"No," I told him wondering how many times he'd made that speech tonight.

"Just a moment," said Hagbard, materializing out of the hallway. "I can make bail for this man."

MR. KHARIS: Does Mr. Celine seriously suggest that the United States Government is in need of a guardian?

MR. CELINE: I am merely offering a way out for your client. Any private individual with a record of such incessant murder and robbery would be glad to cop an insanity plea. Do you insist that your client was in full possession of its reason at Wounded Knee? At Hiroshima? At Dresden?

JUSTICE IMMHOTEP: You become facetious, Mr. Celine.

MR. CELINE: I have never been more serious.

"What is your relationship to this young man?" Bushman asked angrily. He had been about to come when the cop dragged me off to jail, and he was strangling in some kind of gruesome S-M equivalent of coitus interruptus.

"He's my wife," Hagbard said calmly.

"What?"

"Common-law wife," Hagbard went on. "Homosexual marriage is not recognized in Illinois. But

homosexuality per se isn't a crime in this state, either, so don't try to make waves, your honor. Let me

pay and take him home."

It was too much. "Daddy," I said, camping like our friend the Padre. "You're so masterful."

Judge Bushman looked like he wanted to lay Hagbard out with a gavel upside of his head, but he controlled himself. "Count the money," he told the bailiff. "Make sure he pays every penny. And then," he told us, "I want the two of you out of this courtroom as quickly as possible. I'll see you September fifteenth," he added, to me.

MR. KHARIS: And we believe we have demonstrated the necessity of this dam. We believe we have shown that the doctrine of eminent domain is on sure constitutional grounds, and has been held to apply in numerous similar cases. We believe we have shown that the resettlement plan offered by the government will be no hardship for the plaintiffs. . . .

"Fuckin' faggots," the cop said as we went out the door.

"All hail Discordia," I told him cheerfully. "Let's get out of this neighborhood," I added to Hagbard. "My car is right here," he said, pointing to a goddam Mercedes.

"For an anarchist, you sure live a lot like a capitalist," I commented as we got into that beautiful machine crystallized out of stolen labor and surplus value.

"I'm not a masochist," Hagbard replied. "The world makes me uncomfortable enough. I see no reason to make myself more uncomfortable. And I'm damned if I'll drive a broken-down jalopy that spends half its time in a garage being repaired merely because that would make me seem more 'dedicated' to you left-wing simpletons. Besides," he added practically, "the police never stop a Mercedes and search it. How many times a week do you get stopped and harassed, with your beard and your psychedelic Slaveswagon, you damned moralist?"

"This car is full of dope," he said blithely. "I'm making a big delivery to a dealer up in Evanston, on the Northwestern campus, tomorrow."

"You're in the dope business, too?"

"I'm in every illegal business. Every time a government declares something verboten, two groups! move in to service the black market created: the Mafia and the LDD. That stands for Lawless Delicacy Dealers."

"I thought it stood for Little Deluded Dupes."

He laughed. "Score one for Moon. Seriously, I'm the worst enemy governments have, and the best protection for the average person. The Mafia has no ethics, you know. If it wasn't for my group and our years and years of experience, everything on the black market, from dope to Canadian furs, would be shoddy and unreliable. We always give the customer his or her money's worth. Half the dope you sell probably has passed through my agents on its way to you. The better half."

"What was that homosexual business? Just buggin' old Bushman?"

"Entropy. Breaking the straight line into a curve ball."

"Hagbard," I said, "what the hell is your game?"

"Proving that government is a hallucination in the minds of governors," he said crisply. We turned onto Lake Shore Drive and sped north.